Enter the Complimentary Follow-up
Chapter Two
Breakdown thought for sure the highly spirited medic would have put up more resistance once they got underway, but he was thoroughly surprised by the amount of cooperation he received. True to his word, Knock Out hadn't tried to slip off during their journey—not even once. It wasn't something he was used to. However, as soon as the doors to the bunker came into view, all that wonderful compliance started to dissipate. Breakdown watched as the young physician slowed down and transformed into bipedal mode; the look of uncertainty plain as a solar flare on his white faceplates. The larger mech swiftly lifted into his own root form and took a few measured steps towards the doctor.
"Well, here we are."
"I can see that," Knock Out snapped anxiously before quickly retorting, "Definitely not the most impressive piece of architecture, is it?"
Breakdown didn't quite know what to respond with on that. How could someone go from apprehension to sass so quickly? He didn't get long to ponder that as the red mech spoke up again.
"Okay, let me get this straight. You're the reason I'm being brought here for my safety?"
"Kind of, yeah," Breakdown answered carefully. He suspected there was going to be a follow-up question to that one. He was right.
"So, isn't there a way for you to call this off? I mean, I'm safe now and I'm pretty sure I can make my way back to Uraya . . ."
"I'm sorry, Knock Out, but they ordered I bring you here. I don't get to make final decisions," Breakdown answered truthfully.
"I see."
"You're not thinking about running away again, are you?" the warrior asked. Knock Out gave a curt laugh.
"Aren't I?"
There was a short moment of silence before Breakdown cleared his vocalizer.
"So, are you ready to meet Onslaught?"
"If I say no, can I leave?" Knock Out asked in a sarcastic drawl. He wanted to stall this process as long as possible. If he had just a little more time to think, maybe he could find a way out of this. He really didn't want to go into that bunker.
"If you'd like to run from an angry squadron. I'm pretty sure surveillance has picked us up by now," Breakdown stated in a matter-of-fact tone. Knock Out let out a laugh that could have passed for a cry. Of course, there were cameras; there were always cameras . . .
Then something occurred to the doctor. Was it a good thing Breakdown was being this forthcoming? After all, Knock Out was a noncombatant. The war never did look favorably upon the uninvolved; clinically trained or otherwise. What would the Decepticons want with a non-aligned medic? Was he really safe here, was he about to walk into some kind of bizarre trap, or was this a play for his allegiance? His services?
He took in a large vent, trying to calm his racing processor. He couldn't afford to panic; not now, it would only make things worse. He needed to keep his faculties about him if he wanted to get out of this on top and, more importantly, alive. Composing his thoughts, he nodded.
"Fine, let's proceed, shall we?"
He took a few poised steps forward before quickly noticing Breakdown wasn't following. He immediately thought why not? Up until this point, the big bruiser had practically been an unshakable shadow. Knock Out turned back with a look of impatience.
"Well?"
"My orders were to bring you to the bunker, not to accompany you inside. I still need to report back to my unit and find out what happened to the others," Breakdown said with slight hesitation. Knock Out's optics widened dramatically. So much for not panicking.
"Are you serious?!"
Breakdown looked at him incredulously, prompting the smaller bot to reevaluate his demeanor. He hadn't meant to react so strongly, but the thought of continuing this venture alone terrified him. He couldn't quite put a digit on it, especially since Breakdown had placed him in this predicament, to begin with, but he felt much safer having the other around than not. Nevertheless, he needed to remain sensible about this.
"I mean, don't you know how rude it is to abandon a guest? The least you could do is see me inside," Knock Out stated evenly, trying to enlist the other's accompaniment with a bit of guilt. He looked for any sign that he had changed Breakdown's mind. All he got was a quirked optic ridge. He needed to come up with something more reasonable; more appealing.
"Well, wouldn't this Onslaught know something about your unit? You should ask him, right?"
That did the trick, but for entirely different reasons than Knock Out believed. Breakdown had been giving the whole situation a bit more thought. All he'd done was briefly mention Knock Out's presence in the area and what the doctor had done for him. Next thing he knew, General Onslaught was requesting Knock Out be brought back immediately. As far as he understood it, medics weren't all that imperative to the Decepticon cause. It wasn't that they were against medicine, but Megatron frowned severely upon weakness. The need for medical assistance typically pulled one away from what the leader considered to be a glorious death on the battlefield and was thus seen as pitiful in the former gladiator's optics.
So, even though he may not have been the brightest mech—something others constantly reminded him of—Breakdown could see something was off here. Honestly, he didn't know if Knock Out would be safe and the doctor had trusted him to come this far. It bothered him enough to make a decision.
"Well?" Knock Out needled again.
"Hmm. Alright," Breakdown conceded, not missing the other's sigh of relief.
"You're a good mech, Breakdown. Don't let them tell you any different."
The larger mech couldn't help but smile at the remark. He knew he made the right choice.
The two began walking towards the entrance, fully aware the doors to the bunker were slowly opening. As soldiers began pouring out, Breakdown noticed the medic's behavior shifted. Gone were all traces of apprehension. A steady gait, confident posture, and easy-going smile all pointed to a deliberate attempt on Knock Out's part to appear undaunted.
A blue-and-gray mech broke away from the rest of the troop and approached the pair, causing them to stop.
"Breakdown. So, this is the reason you're still online?" the mech asked, glancing down at Knock Out in disapproval. The doctor calmly regarded the other back. In all his experience, the medic found first impressions to be vitally important. Obviously, this mech didn't give a scrap about things like that.
"Nice to meet you, too. I'm Knock Out, by the way. I hear a General Onslaught would like to speak with me," Knock Out stated professionally; amicably. The blue-and-gray mech sneered and looked back up towards Breakdown for more clarification.
"It's true. This is him, Air Leader Thundercracker," Breakdown said with a nod.
"Well, seems you ground-pounders finally did something right for a change," the officer quipped, fanning out his wings to better demonstrate his alternative jet form. The few snickers from the aerial soldiers behind him served to bring a smug smirk to the air leader's face. Knock Out found himself even more irritated by this character. What gave him the right to be so rude?
"Excuse me, sir, but I'd prefer to chat inside where it's safe from any stray blaster fire if you don't mind?" Knock Out deadpanned. The officer's optics tapered briefly before returning to normal.
"I'll take him from here," Thundercracker said with the most unsettling smile Knock Out had ever seen. The medic was also becoming more aware of the other soldiers walling him in. This was shaping up to be a nightmare.
Automatically, Knock Out glanced at Breakdown; optics silently searching for support. All he got was an expressionless, orange face gazing back at him. For a moment, the medic thought he was on his own, but, just as he looked away in defeat, Breakdown spoke up.
"Air Leader, I was thinking about bringing Knock Out to Onslaught myself," he said in a voice that didn't leave much room for argument. The officer's optics narrowed in anger as the medic's beamed with triumph.
"What?! Who are you to start thinking? Weren't you assigned to the Gamma Quadrant? You should be back at your post with the others by now," Thundercracker snapped vehemently. Breakdown shrank back but Knock Out leaned forward. He was put off by this mech's unpleasantness, especially since Breakdown was doing him a favor.
"That's why he needs to see General Onslaught. He can't get in touch with the others, so, if you don't mind, Thunder, why don't we carry on already," the medic said coolly, not missing the astonished whispers of the troops around them. Breakdown's optics widened in shock. Thundercracker let out a sharp vent of indignation before quickly glaring Knock Out down.
"Hopefully, you're worth the trouble, doctor, because if not, I'll be taking care of you personally," he threatened before turning around and gesturing for them to follow. Breakdown hadn't expected Knock Out to be so audacious, especially with a commanding officer. But he had to admit, the look on the air leader's face was hilarious. With a small grin, Breakdown trailed behind Knock Out who was walking confidently after an irritated Thundercracker through the now parted crowd of Decepticon fighters. However, despite his outward boldness, Knock Out's processor was reeling.
From his perspective, he felt this could go one of two ways. Either he was on the cusp of entering a new opportunity or on the verge of making a fatal mistake; a real fifty-fifty here. He always found it amazing how alike excitement and terror felt once faced with risk and reward situations. It was a feeling he was familiar with but he also knew it made gauging one's responses more difficult. He didn't have the advantage of knowing why they wanted to speak with him. All he had in his favor was what he always had; his delightful self-assurance. It was his only defense now . . . or so he thought.
As they crossed the threshold into the bunker, Knock Out took in the dimly-lit, claustrophobically-narrow hallway with ceilings so low Breakdown had to duck down in order to navigate the space. The stale atmosphere and loud noises radiating from the tomb-like enclosure caused the red mech's plating to shudder in revulsion. It triggered another default defense setting; sarcasm.
"I'm absolutely loving this rustic interior and intimate décor. Can't wait to see what the rest of the place looks like."
Thundercracker paused his stride but didn't bother to turn around. Breakdown allowed a look of surprise to cross his faceplates. Knock Out felt a certain thrill seize him as he took in their reactions. There was something intoxicatingly empowering about shocking others, especially when in such a powerless position. Crazy as it might seem, it made the medic feel in control. However, he didn't expect what happened next. Thundercracker laughed. A brief, twisted laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.
"So, you have a sense of humor. Good. You'll need it. We'll all need it."
The Air Leader continued his walk, leaving Knock Out to ponder the statements. They were a further glimpse of what they wanted from him; his enlistment. The medic hesitated long enough to collect his courage before persisting forward; Thundercracker none the wiser. However, the pause didn't escape Breakdown's notice.
He knew the cybertronian before him didn't want to be here. He knew the guy had been terrified just moments before. He knew the mech had a right to be in complete and utter turmoil. But, despite all that, Knock Out kept a buoyant, assertive air about him. There was also no doubt the medic was trying to figure a way out of this mess or, at least, that's the impression Breakdown got anyhow. He could see the doctor's helm tilt this way and that as if mapping out their route and trying to keep track of how many turns they were making. So, polite, composed, and attentive; quite the combination of traits to possess. Breakdown briefly wondered what else the medic ahead of him was capable of.
As the three walked on, Knock Out noticed the corridors were gradually becoming larger—Breakdown could now stand to full height—and the lighting had improved. It helped him feel less trapped, but it reinforced the notion he was heading toward the point of no return. Grant it, from what he understood, the Decepticons were against the very caste system which tended to hold him down. Like himself, they believed in change and a better distribution of power. If anything, this could be a chance for him to move up in the world, but then there was that small detail; the war.
He'd seen enough to know he didn't want to have anything to do with it but wasn't he already involved? It seemed the whole planet was up in arms, choosing sides and destroying each other. What small pockets of neutral territory did remain only served as new battlegrounds for the Autobots and Decepticons. So, why not join the fight? Though a part of him longed for the more peaceful, prosperous side of their current society, he couldn't deny that he hated the present order of things; mainly because he couldn't enjoy that peaceful, prosperous side legally. But, wasn't he happy now? After all, he'd found his own way of beating the system and it was working rather fantastically. Why mess with a good thing going?
He needed to come up with an answer to that question sooner rather than later because they were now entering an assemblage of some kind. Troops, similar to those at the entrance, lined the walls, listening to an enormous mech at the head of the room who Knock Out could only describe as nightmare-inducing.
The Decepticon looked to be some sort of missile carrier as evidenced by the dual cannons and huge tires making up portions of his alternative form, not to mention the heavily armored plating. What really set Knock Out on edge though was the mech's unreadable face. A visor covered the optics while a mouth guard hid any other expression. It made appraising the mech's mood impossible and thus dangerous to Knock Out. Thundercracker was the first to speak.
"Here's the doctor, Onslaught."
The intimidating character gestured for them to come in. Thundercracker immediately stepped forward, but Knock Out wasn't moving. All the medic could think about was if Breakdown had to stoop to get in here, this mech would have needed to crawl. He wouldn't admit it, but he was intimidated. A brief moment passed before Breakdown placed a servo on the medic's shoulder and gently, but firmly showed the doctor onward.
Knock Out resisted the urge to plant his pedes, choosing instead, to shrug off the warrior's assistance and walk in on his own. He looked collected, but his spark was surging out of control, alarms pinging around in his hub. He needed to calm down and listen. He couldn't afford a lapse of function here; not now. Finally, Onslaught spoke.
"You must be Knock Out. Breakdown there has told me a bit about you."
"All good, I hope," Knock Out drawled, glancing back at Breakdown momentarily.
"I assure you, it was," the mech said, dismissing the other soldiers from the room before focusing on them again.
"I commend you for bringing him here in one piece, Breakdown, but why are you still here?" Onslaught asked as he advanced forward to meet them halfway. Thundercracker jumped in, wings hiking up in agitation.
"He says he can't reach the others and you know what that means. The Autobots have probably already secured that quadrant so we'll have to start all over. Lord Megatron won't be pleased and on top of what you're proposing . . ."
Onslaught's jaw stiffened and Knock Out could have sworn he saw a crimson flash behind the mech's visor. The medic really hoped this didn't have anything to do with him, but the side glare he was receiving from Thundercracker told him otherwise.
"As I said before, you better be worth the trouble, doctor."
"I'll be the judge of that, Air Leader," Onslaught said, emphasizing the other's title disparagingly. Thundercracker's optics seemed to burn with murderous intent before the officer smiled genteelly.
"As you wish, General, but don't come begging to me when our leader demands answers."
"Dismissed," Onslaught said simply. Thundercracker gave Knock Out and Breakdown one last withering glance before withdrawing through the way they'd come. The pair stood quietly as the general strode closer; ground thundering under each step.
"Breakdown," Onslaught finally said, generating a nod from the warrior, "I want you to check in with Brawl and see if he can't reassign you to another unit while . . ."
"If it's all the same to you, sir," Knock Out spoke up, hating the pop in his vocalizer as he did so, "I'd prefer it if Breakdown stayed."
Knock Out could hear the mech behind him yield a sharp intake; a sign the medic may have crossed some kind of obscure threshold of insubordination. Well, he figured if he was waist-deep in scrap anyhow, what harm could come of requesting the only bot to show him any consideration stay. Nonetheless, Knock Out could feel his stabilizer joints weaken as Onslaught tilted down and fixed him with a scrutinizing gaze.
It wasn't often a Decepticon general was interrupted without dire consequences—especially by some non-aligned civilian— but Onslaught also knew this mech could be the missing piece of a vital turning point; the difference between victory or defeat.
"Granted. But tell me, are you always this presumptuous?" Onslaught asked in a gruff manner.
"My apologies. I meant no disrespect," Knock Out said humbly, happy to know he'd gotten away with that one.
"Good. Now, let's get straight down to why I requested you here. Our forces are in need of more recruits. Normally, we call on candidates with the right abilities and a desire to join the cause. You have the right abilities, doctor."
"But no desire to join," Knock Out finished carefully. Onslaught nodded.
"I thought as much. Hmm, I can't force you to, but I am going to insist you reconsider."
"While I'm flattered by the invitation, I'd rather remain with my current medical outfit, General Onslaught. I do, however, sympathize with the Decepticon cause and will continue offering my services to any of you I encounter."
"An offer you most graciously extend to our enemies as well, no doubt."
Knock Out could hear his cooling fans kick on. That certainly sounded threatening. Was Onslaught trying to railroad him? Should he play along? Pretend to join the Decepticons? Then what? Try to escape when the opportunity presented itself? No. He worked too hard for this class of medic and he was going to use it.
"I'm a doctor, General. My job is to keep cybertronians online, no matter what affiliation they fall under," he said deliberately, gauging the other two's reactions. Breakdown kept a straight face, but Onslaught tilted his helm a bit.
"So, it is. But, if I understand correctly, you don't rightfully deserve the title doctor, now do you?"
"Come again?" Knock Out said with more indignation than he felt. The accusation was too close to the truth to be a lucky guess, but he knew he couldn't panic.
"You used to work for a science center in Vos. It was mostly research and development, but you also did some work in energon excavation and chemistry," Onslaught said pointedly. The medic's arms quivered, but his voice held steady.
"Well, I certainly know my way around a laboratory, but I'd hardly consider that evidence against my vocation. After all, that's where I first showed an interest in medicine."
"Now we both know that isn't true, doctor, because your alt mode suggests you enjoy the lifestyle of a competitive racer," Onslaught continued. Knock Out's confidence returned. So, that was all.
"Well, I may dabble in a few friendly competitions here and there, but what young bot doesn't have a hobby, am I right?"
"A hobby that nets you quite a substantial income. Just enough to keep up appearances at the academy or get into it?" Onslaught questioned. Knock Out shuttered his optics. How in the Pit had they gotten that information? Still, it didn't prove anything, so, the medic huffed.
"I don't see what all this has to do with my being a doctor . . ."
"You used to help in a little-known bodywork clinic before that."
"So?!" Knock Out snapped defensively without realizing it. Where did they find this material?! He had been very careful in covering his tracks; concealing his past from others and forging a perfectly untraceable identity.
"That's where I believe your curiosity in medicine began," Onslaught said in mock innocence.
"Maybe . . ." Knock Out began as he took an unconscious step backward, nearly bumping into Breakdown. His survival systems were screaming for him to follow his preserving nature to flee while every last bit of his concentrated willpower was trying to keep his plating from trembling.
"It's also where your former practices of illegal parts salvaging, frame modifying, and weapons dealing came in handy. I assume the clinic work was, in part, to pay for the entrance fees on those races you won which helped move you to Vos and into the next level of the sciences."
"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Knock Out tried to sound angry, but came across as flustered. His processor was racing to keep up with his skipping spark. He looked back at Breakdown, hoping to see some form of support, but all he saw was the warrior's own shocked expression. He was on his own now with only a frail brand of self-assurance to guide him.
"And it was only just a short time ago you enrolled in that little medical outfit of yours, masquerading as a surgeon, correct?" Onslaught questioned in a slightly amused tone. Knock Out remained silent, not trusting his vocal composure anymore, but he was still able to maintain stern optic contact with his interrogator.
Onslaught stepped closer.
"So, you're a scientist, a racer, a wheeler 'n dealer, and now a doctor. I ran your class set and it's taken you from the position of a domestic servant in one quadrant to a member of the nobility in another; all thanks to your blurred heritage."
Knock Out finally looked away in silent shock and shame. He could feel their optics burrowing into him and it was maddening, but he couldn't bring himself to look up again.
Breakdown gave a small, angry vent as he witnessed the fight drain out of the smaller mech. This was why he joined the Decepticons in the first place. He had been tired of seeing spirited cybertronians emptied of their ambitions because of something as antiquated as a caste system. It wasn't fair; it wasn't right and, as Megatron had voiced, it wasn't staying. Still, Breakdown didn't think it was appropriate to showcase the medic's past like that and he gave the general a scornful look. Onslaught merely crossed his massive arms and addressed Knock Out.
"So, care to explain your drastic caste jumping to the Senate and the side that wants to bargain with them or to the faction that sympathizes with your misconduct?"